Garrison Records
by Powerfulweak
Summary: Movie AU/Empire Records AU. 1995. Garrison Records is your average, little, independent music store on the California coast, staffed with freaks, weirdos and other lovable types. It's just your average work day full of has-been pop stars, shoplifting attempts and the threat of becoming a chain franchise. Yup, just an average day.
1. Prologue

**A/N:This fic is such a change from what I usually write. I've never written a movie AU, so that is a first.**  
**There'll be some smut later on, but not nearly the degree that I usually deliver. The biggest change, though, is that this is a Sabriel**  
**I'm not a Sabriel shipper, but when I was formulating this story, Sam and Gabriel just seemed to wiggle their way into the main pairing and I was like "Screw it,**  
**let's go with it". I'm not even sure if Destiel will end up in this, but we shall see. I make no promises either way.**  
**But for you Sabriel fans out there: this is for you guys. **

**This fic is set in the mid 90's. Originally I was going to move it to now, but Music Stores aren't as common as they used to be and the whole thing would become anachronistic fast.**  
**Lastly, I want to give a big shout out to DemonsandDolls for inspiring me with all of her lovely Movie AUs. **

Castiel sits on the office sofa, mumbling to himself. It could almost be mistaken for a prayer, but the heavy repetition more closely resembles a mantra. He stares straight ahead, eyes focused on nothing. The lamp on Crowley's desk bathes the room in a warm glow all around him. Heavy footsteps approach as the office door swings open.

"Crow-?" a low voice calls, followed by its owner in tight black t-shirt and low slung jeans.

"Dean," Cas jumps at the break in his concentration. Dean stops short as he sees Castiel, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Cas? What are you doing here" Dean asks, leaning against the door jamb.

"My life has reached its pinnacle," A small grin twists at Cas mouth, "Crowley is letting me close the store tonight." Dean raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"Wow. Big responsibility, Cas." Dean replies with just a hint of sarcasm. He's more surprised Cas is only closing the store now. He's been working here longer than anyone else, second only to Gabriel and Crowley himself.

"Yes, but Crowley's rules are extremely simple: keep my hands off of his scotch, contracts and drumsticks." Cas emphasizes each item and ticks off them on his fingers as he says them. He seems proud of his memorization. Dean crosses his arms over his chest and smirks at him.

"Geez, Cas, how are you going to remember all that?" He quips, turning to exit, "Good luck. Don't screw it up." There is a sing-song quality to his voice with the last words as he leaves. Cas sits there in the quiet for a moment, his mouth moving over his silent mantra, knowing with absolute certainty that a responsibility like this requires the obedience of a saint.

An hour later, Cas runs a thumb over the final stack of bills. He smiles to himself. He had counted the money twice (all $9104 of it), filled out all the drop paperwork, and had only taken maybe three swigs from the bottle of Craig Crowley keeps in his bottom drawer of his desk.

"See, I can do this," Cas says to the empty room, as he straightens the stack of bills for the fifth time. He can be trusted, Crowley will see that. He's already the night manager, there's no reason he shouldn't be closing as well. He never understood why Crowley always resisted letting Cas close. He called Castiel a "wild card".

Cas snorts at the thought. He isn't a risk. He'd count the money a third time to prove it, but then glances at the clock, noticing that he still has to drop off at the bank. He picks up the bank bag and and searches for the key. As he pulls open the desk drawer, something catches his eye.

It's a contract and, for some reason, it isn't in the file cabinent with all the other contracts.

"Music Town Franchise Agreement." He reads aloud as he leafs through the stack of papers, "They're turning us into a music town?" He tilts his head and pulls a photo from beneath the contract. It's a rendering of the store's familiar front entrance, the Garrison Records sign replaced with the well known Music Town logo.

"This isn't right," Cas mutters. He stares at the contract and picture in front of him, mind racing. Why is the store being sold? He thought Crowley loved the store? Is this because of Michael? Does Crowley need money?

Cas stares at the stacks of cash sitting on the desk in front of him as an idea begins to take root in his mind. Vegas is a few hours away. All he needs to do is play a couple tables, win a couple times and the store will remain it's lovely self.

"In the immortal words of the Doors," Cas says, dropping the money bag and stuffing the cash into the inner pocket of his leather jacket,"The time to hesitate is through." He grabs his helmet and locks the backdoor, rushing down the sidewalk toward his motorcycle.


	2. Luke Cypher Day

"Castiel!" Gabriel nudges the sleeping man's shoulder. "Hey, Cas." He's slumped over the dash of his motorcycle, parked in the alley behind the store.

Gabriel shakes him shoulder again. Cas' jerks awake, lifting his head off his bike. He looks rough. His dark hair is matted to his scalp and deep circles ring his eyes. He cradles a small plastic bucket with the word 'Harrod's' printed on the side into his chest. He squints in the morning sunlight as Gabriel and Alfie come into focus.

"Hey guys," he leans back and cranes his neck, working out a kink, "What's going on?" Gabriel eyeballs him, the little furrow of worry forming at the center of his forehead.

"What's going on with you, man? Did you sleep here?" Gabriel questions, reflexively pushing a strand of chin-length hair behind his ear. Castiel straightens up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He scratches his head absently

"No, maybe, um… Kinda" he mumbles. "Something happened last night… in Las Vegas." Alfie lets out a short, spastic giggle as he chews his fingernail.

"Vegas" Alfie repeats, eyes go slightly wider than usual, "Did you win anything?" Cas gives Alfie a stony look.

"No," he responds, "I did not." He wedges the Harrod's bucket into the space between the gas tank and the dash and grabs the helmet from the back of his bike.

"If you wonder if it was a pleasure knowing you," Cas says, Squeezing Gabriel's shoulder, "I tell you now, it was." He puts on the helmet and revs the engine on the bike.

"Shit, how much man?" Gabriel shouts over the growl of the engine. "Cas, how much?" Cas peels out of the Alley, sending Alfie and Gabriel jumping out of his way.

"Shit," Gabe mutters as he watches Cas speeds down the street.

"What do you mean 'Shit'?" Alfie asks, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Gabriel sighs and gives the younger man a sad smirk.

"Well, Cas went to Vegas. Cas doesn't have any money and Crowley let Cas close the store last night," He says as he loops his messenger bag over himself.

"So?" Gabriel gives him a critical stare. Alfie's eyes brighten, suddenly aware "Oh! I guess he didn't live up to the responsibility of the position."

"Not entirely, no," Gabe says as they walk toward the front door of the store. "Shit! Shut up, shut up." He motions for Alfie to be quiet as Crowley's car comes rumbling to a halt in front of them.

"Morning boys," Crowley greets, exiting his car. He smooths a hand down his suit jacket.

"Crowley, what's up with the suit, man?" Gabriel says as he and Alfie follow him into the store.

"Bloody Luke Cypher day," Crowley mutters under his breath. Gabriel smirks and hums the chorus to Cypher's latest single, "The Devil in Me", as he follows Crowley to the back office. The has-been pop star was trying to regain his former glory with a new record and a signing tour, one of the stops happening to be Garrison. The trill of the store phone breaks through the silence of the building.

"Alfie. Phone." Crowley orders. Alfie scrambles behind the counter answering with a familiar 'Garrison Records, open 'til Midnight, this is Alfie.'

"Ooh baby, the woman in you brings out the devil in me," Gabriel sings with a sarcastic smirk, wiggling his hips. Crowley rolls his eyes. Alfie holds up the phone.

"Crowley," Alfie Call out, "it's the bank." Crowley goes behind the counter and takes the phone from Alfie.

"This is Crowley." He answers. Gabriel continues into the staff break room. He drops his messenger bag into his locker. He can see Crowley hunched over the counter through the back window, phone pressed tightly to his ear.

"What's wrong, Crowley?" He mumbles to himself, practicing for when shit hits the fan, and trying to sound as convincing as possible,"What's going on, man? What, Castiel? No…" He unloads his bag, pulling out a tupperware container and setting it on the table. He bites the inside of his cheek nervously. Crowley's temper was not something anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of, least of all Castiel. Alfie suddenly runs through the break room door.

"He's coming," he mutters nervously. Gabriel turns back to his locker, attempting to look busy as Crowley storms into the room. He strides determinedly to his office and slams the door shut. Gabriel casts a nervous glance at Alfie, who has taken off his worn Weiner Hut cap and is fiddling with the brim.

"Michael called after the bank," Alfie says absently.

"What did he-" Gabriel is instantly cut off by a roar.

"Dammit, Castiel!" Crowley bursts out of his office, nostrils flaring. Alfie and Gabriel both gawk at him with wide eyes.

"uh, What's up, Crowley?" Gabriel says hesitantly. Crowley shoots him a menacing glare, and walks out of the room, muttering under his breath.

Dean stumbles half-asleep down the stairs to his family's kitchen. The smell of waffles and bacon meets him half way down the steps as does the sound of the Gin Blossoms on the stereo. As he enters the room, he sees his little brother Sam carefully piping icing onto rows of chocolate cupcakes, singing along to "Til I Hear It From You". the kitchen table is already set with stacks of fresh waffles and a mountain of crisp bacon.

"Jesus, Sammy," He says, pulling a black t-shirt over his head, "What's all this?"

"Happy Luke Cypher Day," Sam says with a grin handing dean a plate and bottle of Mrs Butterworth. Dean nods; Of course Sammy would do something like this for Luke Cypher Day. He has had a teeny-bopper crush on him since he was 8. Dean clearly remembers Sam's face practically pressed against the TV, eyes unblinking, whenever a Cypher video came on MTV.

And now the singer was coming to their store for a record signing.

"When did you have time to do all of this?" Dean asks, pulling up a chair and loading up the proffered plate.

"Dad says there are 24 usable hours in everyday," Sam counters, taking a seat. Dean takes a bite of a waffle and shakes his head, giving Sam a playful smirk. Yeah, Sam didn't sleep last night.

"It's official. You are a nerd," Dean teases.

"That's me," Sam says with a grin, taking a bite of his oatmeal. The brothers tuck into their breakfasts.

"Where's dad?" Sam finally says.

"Missouri, I think. Business trip." Dean says, not looking up from his plates. Their father's frequent absences remain a sore subject between Sam and Dean. It was his job that originally brought them to California, and yet he is barely ever here. That didn't stop him from taking an overly-invested interest in his sons' lives. Well, Sam's life, at least. Dean swallows a mouthful of food and grimaces at the thought. He glances up at his brother and smiles; there was another, less uncomfortable elephant in the room right now.

"So," Dean says expectantly.

"So," Sam repeats

"Sooooo."

"So Today," Sam says finally, "I will offer myself to Luke Cypher." Dean claps enthusiastically.  
"Alright, Sammy!" He cheers and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, "And in honor of the occasion, I am lending you these." Dean pulls out a handful of pink fabric and pushes it into Sam's palm.

"Don't worry. They're clean," He assures. Sam unfolds the bundle to reveal a pair of bikini-cut satin panties.

"What... are these?" Sam asks, more than a little perturbed by his brother's offering.

"Those" Dean says, pointing a piece of bacon in Sam's direction for emphasis, "Are miracle workers." Sam cocks an eyebrow at his brother, looking doubtful.

"Really, Dean?" Sam says, incredulous that his brother would try to lend him panties. He was much less surprised that Dean owned a pair of panties.

"Trust me, Sam, I have never not gotten laid while wearing those. Guys or girls." Dean wiggles his eyebrows, causing Sam to chuckle.

"I swear Dean, you can be such a perv sometimes," Sam says with a shake of his head.

"Takes one to know one," Dean winks and shoves another forkful of waffle into his mouth. Sam goes quiet as he considers his oatmeal.

"Do you think Luke is the right guy for my first time?" Sam asks, looking at Dean thoughtfully. Dean gives his little brother a warm smile. In a matter of months, Sam will be off at school, his full ride to Stanford already confirmed. His future is already right on track, but right now all he's worried about is losing his virginity. Like any other normal, horny 17-year-old.

"I think he's perfect for you, Sammy," Dean says, clapping his little brother on the shoulder. They both hurry to finish their breakfasts, dumping their dishes in the sink before jumping into Dean's Impala. Sam sets the tray of cupcakes gingerly on the seat between them. He smiles to himself as Dean drums along to some Zepplin song. Today is going to be a good day.

_It's Luke Cypher Day._


	3. Opening

**A/N: If you haven't seen "Empire Records", you should. It is an awesome 90s film. But if you do watch it, make sure it is the original cut and not the "Re-mix" version.**

When Chuck Beck sold his father's bathroom fixture business to buy the little storefront in Venice Beach that would become Garrison Records, he knew it was right. It was the right thing to do.

Music is important. It allows to you express what you can't say with words. It gives connection between people who may have nothing else in common and provides stronger bonds for those who do. It can lift someone from misery and can make a memory even brighter. Chuck knew this.

He remembered meeting Rebecca at a college mixer with Neil Sedaka's falsetto playing over the hi-fi. He remembers "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" on the car radio as he slipped an engagement ring onto her finger with shaky hands almost two years later. He remembers singing "Puff the Magic Dragon" to his infant son as he rocked him to sleep. Music was Chuck's life. Garrison Records was the right decision.

Unfortunately, Chuck's eldest son Michael didn't feel that way. Oh sure, he loved Huey Lewis or Phil Collins as much as the next guy, but he didn't see music as the life changing experience that his father had. It wouldn't have been his choice to own the store, but after his dad's death five years ago, he hadn't had much of a choice. Garrison was an okay store and it made okay money, but Michael knew that had he been selling bathtubs and toilets, he would've been a millionaire today.

Crowley remembered Chuck well. He had started as a cashier in the early 80s when he still looked like a new wave nightmare and played drums for a Joy Division knock-off. Chuck was a good guy and a good boss. He was quiet and kept to himself a lot, but on late nights, after closing, he would crack open a couple beers and talk to Crowley about why Pete Seeger was more influential than Bob Dylan. Crowley hoped he wouldn't be dishonoring Chuck's memory by beating an employee to a pulp.

"I swear, I am going to kill that prat," Crowley growled as he slumped into his desk chair. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He had no idea what had prompted Castiel to run off with the day's take. He had already checked and double-checked every safe, drawer, and cabinet in the store and the only thing he had come up with was an abandoned bank bag on his office sofa. The kid hadn't been at the apartment when Crowley had left that morning. Crowley had assumed that he had hooked up with someone, but now he feels that Cas' action were much more nefarious.

There is a soft knock. Crowley looks up to see Gabriel is standing at the door. He has a small plastic container in his hand.

"Is this a bad time?" He asks.

"Isn't it always a bad time?" Crowley sighs, but he waves Gabe into the office. He pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the desk and drops the container in front of Crowley.

"What's this?" Crowley asks suspiciously.

"Try it,"Gabriel says, producing a plastic fork out of nowhere. Crowley tentatively takes the fork and opens the container to reveal something layered, obviously sweet and dusted with cocoa powder. He digs a fork into it and takes a cautious bite. Gabriel watches him with eager eyes.

"So?" He asks as Crowley takes a second bite.

"S'good," he says between chews.

"Just good or 'good' good?" he looks on anxiously.

"It's very good, Gabriel," Crowley reassures, "What is it?"

"Chocolate tiramisu with hazelnut mascarpone." He announces. Crowley lets out an impressed little 'hmm' as he continues to eat the desert.

"Tastes like Nutella," Crowley adds.

"That's the whole point!" Gabe says with a wide grin, "I added Frangelico to the mascarpone and just a touch or finely ground espresso powder to the cocoa."  
"So basically I'm going to be on a drunken sugar high all day, huh?" Crowley smirks wryly. Gabriel laughs lightly and leans in closer to the desk.

"So I need some advice"  
"Ah, I should've known," Crowley sighs, dropping the fork on the desk, "Bribing me with desert, Gabriel? That's low even for you."

"What can I say?" Gabriel throws his arms out lazily, "I'm a trickster." Crowley shakes his head and leans back, giving him a 'go ahead' gesture.

"So here's the thing," Gabriel takes a deep breath, "You're kind of a romance expert, right?"

"Oh yes," Crowley drawls sarcastically, "My wife left me for another woman and my girlfriend Abby forced me to leave at gunpoint. Does that qualify me?"

"Of course," he replies, moving quickly on to his own topic, "I've decided that today is the day I am going to tell Sam how I feel… about him." Crowley nods lazily; this isn't exactly a new conversation. Gabriel's puppy-love obsession with Sam was an ever-present topic of conversation between these two.

"I mean I've been working here on-and-off for almost 7 years," Gabe continues, "It's time to shit or get off the pot. I'm going to just go up to Sam and tell him that I… uh…"

"Love him?" Crowley completes his thought.  
"Exactly," Gabriel says, "So how do I do that?"

"You say 'I love you'," Crowley deadpans, "What? Do you want written instructions?" He stands up from his desk and begins walking toward the door.

"Well, yeah, actually. That'd be helpful," Gabe mumbles, "I'm going to do it!"

"Good"

"By noon, or one"

"That's nice"

"By 1:37 exactly!" Crowley turns to see Gabriel nodding with a huge self-satisfied grin.

"Good for you. Look, Gabriel, as much as I love our little distractions, my professional life is kind of falling apart right now," He opens the office door, motioning for Gabe to leave, "Thank you for the desert." Gabriel exits and the door slams behind him.

He walks over to his locker and digs through his bag once more, retrieving a foil wrapped brick. He pushes through the swinging doors into the empty store. Alfie is at the front counter, sifting through CDs for the perfect opening music.

"Hey, Alfie!" Gabriel shouts as he approaches the younger man. Alfie looks up just as Gabriel tosses him the brick.

"What's this?" Alfie asks as he examines the package, carefully pulling back the foil.

"Brownies. My special recipe," He points a deliberate finger in Alfie's direction and wiggles his eyebrows, "You know what that means." Alfie giggles spastically in response.

"Alright!" Alfie shouts, "Thanks, Gabe." He turns back toward the break room to get the duties list for the day.

Dean and Sam exit the Impala, both singing one of Luke Cypher's classic hits under their breath and dissolving into a fit of laughter when neither can hit the high note.

"Oh my God, I remember the first time I saw that video," Sam sighs wistfully, "I thought I was going to piss myself."

"You were 8, you probably did piss yourself," Dean chides.

"Shut up," Sam pushes him playfully. As they reach the back door, Gabriel comes bursting through.

"Hey, uh, you guys do not want to go in there right now," He says, leading them to the opposite side of the store.

"Happy Luke Cypher Day!" Sam announces, handing Gabriel a cupcake.

"Oh, cool, Thanks Sam!" he replies as he starts to remove the paper wrapper from the treat.

"What's going, Gabe?" Dean says, redirecting back to the point.

"Oh man, I got some really crazy news." As the three of them walk toward the front entrance, Gabriel relays everything that had happened so far.

"Does Crowley know?" Dean questions. Gabriel just shakes his head, mouth stuffed full of cupcake. They walk through the store quickly, making their way to the back. Sam places the cupcakes near the makeshift kitchen and drops his backpack in his locker. Dean sheds his canvas jacket and and pulls a bag of M&Ms from his back pocket.

"Alfie, Gabe, Sam… are we ready?" He yells, echoing through the cavernous space. They congregate near the front cash registers. Dean tears open the bag and pours out a few M&Ms into each of their palms.

"Alright," Dean plucks a single candy from the bag, "I got a brown. Anyone got brown?" Gabe, Sam and Alfie all look at each other shaking their heads. Dean gets another candy.

"Orange." Alfie immediately holds up an orange M&M. Sam and Gabe both groan and throw their candies at him. He just flips them off with both hands and rushes over to the stereo. Alfie's music choices always vear to that screaming metal and pop punk, and today does not disappoint. He queues up Queen Sarah Saturday and a heavy guitar riff blasts through the speakers.

As Dean straightens and dust down the shelves of CDs, tapes and vinyl, Alfie sweeps wildly, singing along into the handle of the broom. Sam, technically not clocked in, works on starting a pot of coffee. Gabe's counts all the cash into the first drawer of the day and exits the count-out room. He take Dean's hand and spinning him around to the music, enroute to the cash register.

There is a sudden siren blast, a cue that the disc is being ejected, and the music is cut off. Alfie's head shoots up as he sees Gabriel at the stereo removing his CD.

"What are you doing man?" Alfie asks as he jogs toward the stereo booth.

"Exercising my veto, man," Gabe replies without looking up. Each staff member got one one chance to 'veto' someone else's song choice per day.

"Isn't it a little early?" Alfie protests. Gabe eyes him deliberately.

"Alfie, listening to shit like this is going to make you sterile." The younger man looks dejected, a pout crossing his-normally grinning face.

"Maybe I want to be sterile," he mumbles as he walks away. Gabriel just shakes his head and removes a lighter from his shirt pocket, singeing the bottom of the disc and taking it permanently out of rotation.


	4. Money Talks

Crowley walks through the store, taking a last overview before they open the doors. He strolls past the register and stops, watching Sam as he pores over his text book.

"Moose" Crowley says, approaching counter, "What are you doing?" Sam flinches at the interruption.

"Calculus," he replies, quickly regaining his composure and closing the book. "I hate it, but Dad says I've go to get an A."

"I mean you know you're not on until this afternoon, correct?" Crowley clarifies, somewhat condescendingly. Sam smiles a sweet, gleeful grin.

"Crowley, it's Luke Cypher Day." He returns his gaze back to his book. Crowley grits his teeth and walks on, muttering under his breath about "fucking Luke Cypher Day" as he heads back to his office.

Alfie sings along to Alice in Chains as it's piped through the stereo. He sweeps absently along the floors of the staff room, ignoring Crowley's "Shut the hell up, Alfie" as he walks by. Gabriel sits at the table, quietly entertained by Alfie's performance, as he flips through a Rolling Stone. The door swings open and he looks up just in time to see Castiel striding in.

"Uh-oh" Alfie mumbles, "uh… Hey Cas."

"Hello, Alfie. Gabriel" Castiel reaches into the Harrods buckets and flips a quarter at each of them.

"Castiel!" Crowley's voice booms as he charges out of his office.

"Hello, Crowley," Cas says stiffly, eyes wide as a deer in headlights. Crowley stops right in front of the younger man, nostrils flaring but eerily calm. A corner of Cas' mouth quirks up into the barest hint of a smile.

"Castiel," Crowley starts quietly, "Where's the money?"

"Crowley," Cas holds up a placating hand and hugs the bucket of coins into his chest, "The money is gone."

"I'm aware it's gone. Where's it gone to?"

"Las Vegas," Cas states plainly.

"Oh, Vegas," Crowley repeats, a weird little grin spreading across his face, "Is it coming back from Vegas?" Crowley slowly closes in on Cas' personal space, forcing him backward.

"Uh, I don't think so, Crow." Cas admits, looking down sheepishly.

"What's it doing in Vegas?" Crowley's calm facade begins at crack. Cas takes one more step backward as hits the wall behind him.

"Recirculating?" He replies with a small shrug. Crowley stands stock still before slamming his hand down, knocking the bucket out of Cas' arms and sending quarters scattering across the floor. Cas watches the coins all roll to a stop.

"Are you pissed off, Crowley?" Cas asks. A large hand grabs on onto the joint of his neck. Crowley squeezes hard, causing Castiel to wince and crumple in response.

"Castiel," he says quietly, barely holding on to his composure.

"Crowley," Cas echos with some effort

"Castiel."

"Crowley."

"Castiel, I told Michael Beck that you forgot to deposit the money. I said it was still here." Crowley growls, his face only inches from Cas'.

"Well, that wasn't true," Cas says simplistically, "It's in Vegas." Crowley rolls his eyes and shoves Cas hard onto the beat up old couch.

"Shut up. Stay there and don't move." Crowley says sternly as he turns back toward his office.

"It might even be in other cities by now." Cas supplies.

"Oh Shut Up!" Crowley barks, turning back toward Cas, "If you leave that couch for any other reason other than to get me $9,000, I am going to string you up and leave you to the mercy of wild dogs." Castiel looks ill at ease at the thought.

"Everything will work out, Crowley." Cas calls after him, to which Crowley loudly slams his door.

The morning crowd of customers filters in slowly while Sam and Dean stand at the counter, idly shooting the shit.

"No, Han Solo was the biggest badass in the Star Wars Universe." Dean says with more than a little finality.

"Boba Fett. I rest my case." Sam counters with a cheeky grin, as he rings up a young girls CD. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Please, without his armour, Boba Fett is just-"

"Hey are you Sam Winchester?" the brothers are interrupted by a young shaggy guy carrying a small bouquet of yellow flowers. Sam raises his hand, visibly confused.

"That's me." he says. The guy places the flowers on the counter, calling back a 'later' as he leaves.

"Who sent those?" Dean asks, trying to appear nonchalant in his curiosity. Sam shakes his head and shrugs. Before he can reach it, Dean plucks the card out from among the flowers.

"To the top of his class, Stanford '99," Dean reads, "We're so proud of you, Love Dad" Dean smiles at the sentiment. The card is right; they are proud of Sam, although he can't ignore the tiny spike of jealousy that seems to be needling into his brain. Of course Dad would take time out of his busy schedule across the country to do something like this for Sam. Dean knows he would never get this kind of treatment. Sam isn't nearly as affected by it, though.

"It's never good enough for him," Sam says, more sad than angry. Dean frowns.

"Aw, Sam, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that," He places a comforting hand on his brother's back, but Sam shrugs him off as the next customer approaches the cash register. A blond figure flashes past them suddenly.

"Morning, Meg," both Dean and Sam call after her, receiving an extended middle finger in response.

"She hates me," Sam says absently.

"Yeah, she hates me too," Dean says as he rings up a copy of "The Bodyguard" soundtrack, "but I'm smart enough to hate her back." He gives Sam a half grin and a wink.

Meg burst in through the swinging doors, striding past Gabriel, and Cas and ignoring their greetings. She stalks straight into the bathroom and slams the door. Gabriel catches Cas' glance out the corner of his eye and just shrugs. He is currently sitting on the floor, supergluing errant quarters from Cas's bucket to the hardwood surface.

"Cas, do you think it's possible for someone to be in love with someone else and not know it?" Gabriel wonders aloud.  
"Yes, I believe so," Cas says, flipping absently through a Cosmopolitan (the only reading material that was within reach from his spot on the couch).

"Cool," Gabriel says, squirting a dollop of glue over Washington's face, "because I have to tell Sam that I love him by 1:37 exactly." He presses the quarter onto the floorboard, grinning maliciously at the frustration it will cause. Cas nods in approval and turns his attention back to 'How to lose 10 lbs by Summer'.

Crowley abruptly exits his office and sits down at the other end of the couch.

"Castiel, are you in trouble?" He asks, concern evident, "Because you could've come to me if you were in trouble." Cas sighs audibly.

"Crowley, we're all in trouble. I feel like I'm the only one who sees it." Cas' shoulders fall, "Meg's in trouble and Gabriel is in trouble-"

"Gabriel is not in trouble," Gabe responds, holding up one finger, without looking up from the floor.

"Sam's in trouble...," Cas continues.

"Sam isn't in trouble, He's going to Stanford," Gabe Adds.

"Dean's in trouble, Alfie's in trouble…"

"I'm the one in trouble!" Crowley snaps, "Because every minute that goes by and I don't either call the police or initiate vigilante justice, I look like the bigger asshole." Cas considers him, tilting his head slightly.

"Crowley, I can guarantee that you are not a bigger asshole." He nods slowly and gives Crowley a half smile. Crowley lets an unamused pause settle between them.

"What am I supposed to do, huh? Call Michael and tell him I lied?" Crowley hisses

"It's not the worst option," Cas says with a small shrug. Crowley drags a hands down his face in exasperation.

"I swear that if you are fucking with me, I will skin you alive." Castiel hums and ponders this.

"Gabriel!" Crowley barks across the small space, " I need another closer. You interested?"  
"Sure," Gabriel sighs, "I guess I could use the money. My landlord just raised my rent."

"Well, damn the man," Cas says matter-of-factly. Crowley rolls his eyes and throws the copy of Cosmo at Cas' head.

Alfie had successfully instigated a spur-of-the-moment mosh pit as "War Ensemble" blasts over the store speakers. Dean wades through the dozen slamming bodies to the stereo booth. It's too early for this shit.

"Veto!" he shouts as the siren goes off. The moshing instantly stops and Alfie glares at Dean in disbelief.

"What's up with that, Dean?" Alfie gripes, approaching the booth. Dean levels a look at Alfie.

"You know It makes the customers all crazy," he says, moving past Alfie and back to the register.

"That's the point!" Alfie calls after him. He's about to turn back to the stereo booth when he is accosted by a mass of red hair.

"Alfie!" Charlie calls out as she throws her arms around his neck. Charlie works at the internet cafe down the road while she goes to school for programming. She was never officially hired at Garrison, but she picks up shifts sporadically, mostly because she's here all the time anyway.

"What's going on man? I heard your music out there. That was some heavy stuff." Charlie wears a white t-shirt with 'Nerd' printed in small, black letters across the front.

"Yeah, it was moshy," Alfie says with a grin. Alfie and Charlie had bonded quickly due to their quirky personalities and love of energetic music (There was now a permanent Veto on 'Walking on Sunshine' thanks to Charlie). Alfie had even harbored a crush on her until he learned that Charlie's preferences ran more towards girls.

"So, as promised," Charlie announces, reaching into her back pocket, "I made you a mix tape. For educational purposes." Alfie's face falls at the word 'educational'. He examines the cassette which Charlie has placed in his hands, reading over the titles.

"So, here's the deal," Charlie continues, sidling up to Alfie, "We start out with a some old-school rock and roll: we've got some Bill Haley, some Chuck Berry. We move into Rockabilly with Elvis, obvi, Carl Perkins . I got some late era Beatles, some Floyd-"

"Floyd is very cool." Alfie interrupts, grinning from ear to ear.

"-and a little bit of Zep to finish it off." Charlie loops an arm around his shoulders, "Alfie, you need to realize, this music… it's the glue of the world. Without it, life… would suck." Charlie let's her words sink in for a moment.

"Dude!" Alfie exclaims suddenly, "Did you hear about Castiel?"

Cas taps his foot mindlessly. He really needed to pee. He wants to ask Crowley if he could leave the couch to go to the bathroom, but he doesn't trust that Crowley wouldn't go off on him again. Not that he doesn't deserve it. He fucked up, he knew that. He'd been doing so well at the craps tables too, doubled their money in fact, and then some attractive, probably-a-hooker blonde had convinced him to let it ride and he'd lost it all. He'd thought he'd been doing the right thing, trying to save the store from…

Shit.

No one else even knows yet, do they?

Cas rubs his eyes and looks toward Crowley's office. The older man is on the phone with the police, attempting to report the money as a robbery. The third time he's put on hold, he slams the phone down onto the cradle aggressively.

The bathroom door opens and Meg emerges, rubbing a towel over her now deep black curls. Gabriel looks up and double takes, mouth forming a small 'o'.

"You were blonde when you went in there, right?" Gabriel asks.

"Yeah, I decided to go to the dark side." Meg deadpans, punching her card into the time clock. As she passes Cas, she taps him on the shoulder. "Hey Clarence, is it true you committed the perfect crime?"

"Not entirely perfect," Cas responds. Meg opens the door to her locker and places her half-helmet and bag inside. As she grabs her drawer from the count out room, Gabriel's eyes fix on something.

"Did you see that," he mumbles to Cas. He rises from his spot on the floor and crosses the room to Meg. He stops in front of her, blocking her way.

"What's going on?" Gabe asks, his face eerily dour.

"Bad hair day," Meg replies, running a hand through her still damp locks.

"No, I mean this" Gabriel grabs her right arm in one quick movement, pulling down the sleeve of her sweater to reveal a gauze bandage around her wrist. Meg looks down, embarrassed, before yanking her arm out of Gabe's grasp.

"I… tried making a deal with the devil and I didn't like his terms," her words stumble out quickly, "Now please, I've got to get to work."

"No," Gabriel stated plainly, "Now, tell me what is going on."

"I decided I'd rather do anything than meet Luke Cypher, now please move." Meg shakes her head, irritation evident on her face.

"No, you aren't moving until you tell me!" Gabe barks. Meg is glaring daggers at him when Castiel comes up from behind her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"She's fine, " Cas says, completely monotone, "Our thorny maiden is perfect," Meg glances at Cas and quirks a small smile.

"Thank you," she says, walking through the swing doors to the store. Gabriel gapes at Cas.

"Gabriel, she'll be ok," Cas whispers, leaning in toward Gabe, "She's in the store." Gabe shakes his head in disbelief.

"What is with you man? Yesterday, you were normal. Today, you're like Mr. Miyagi."

"I don't understand that reference." Cas interjects.

"Whatever!" Gabe throws up his hands, "What is with you today?" Cas tilts his head and contemplates this.

"What with today, today?" he responds as he returns to the couch. Gabe rolls his eyes.

Sam and Dean immediately stop their conversation and watch with rapt attention as Meg approaches the register, Sam's mouth forming a silent 'wow'. He takes his drawer from the register as Meg steps behind the counter.

"Nice hair," He says quietly, more of an acknowledgment than a compliment. Meg gives him a tight smile.

"Thank you, Sammy," Meg responds sarcastically, "Oh and before you hear it from Gabe…" Meg lifts her right hand and pulls down the sleeve of her sweater, revealing the bandage. The brothers just stare for a moment.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Sam asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Why? Does it make you laugh?" Meg retorts. Sam ignores her and pushes past, making his way to the back room. Dean watches Meg with a smirk as she inserts her drawer.

"Well, hi there Wednesday Addams? Have you seen Pugsley lately?" Dean chides. The corner of Meg's mouth quirks just slightly.

"Well, hello to you too, Princess?" Meg replies sarcastically.

"It's good to see that your 1-hour dye job hasn't dampened you sunny personality," Dean snarks. Meg can't help smiling at that.

"Clever, Dean," She says, "I swear, it's like you get smarter the tighter your shirt gets."

"And you get smarter the darker your hair gets," Dean replies. Meg smirks in return and nods in agreement. Dean and Meg may not have the best relationship, but they do have a healthy respect of each other's sarcastic attitude.

Charlie and Alfie burst in through the swing door of the back room, cackling wildly.

"Oh my god! Castiel!" Charlie cries, "I heard you went to Vegas, and went all _Rain Man_ and now you've got a hit out on you. Is that true?" Alfie shrugs behind her. mumbling something about being fuzzy on the details. Gabriel snorts loudly and Sam quietly laughs as he buries himself once again in his text book.

"Not quite, Charlie," Cas says simply.

"Well, outlaw, man. We salute you!" Charlie and Alfie both bring their hand up to their temples in a mock salute. The intercom buzzes loudly above them.

"This next song goes out to our employee of the week: Castiel," Dean's voice crackles above them. AC/DC blares through the speakers as "Money Talks" starts playing over the stereo. Charlie begins to bob her head to the heavy guitar riff. As the first verse starts, she pantomimes a microphone and she lip syncs along to the music. Alfie attempts to imitate Angus Young's duck walk but ends up falling on his ass with a laugh. Gabriel gets up off the floor to dance with Charlie who twirls the smaller man around with flourish.

Crowley suddenly bolts from his office and walks to the storage closet, grabbing a large box. Anger and frustration are clearly evident on his face as his brows knit together. He hands everyone in the room an orange apron and a sheet of paper.

"What the hell is this, Crowley?" Sam asks as he closes his text book and examines the paper.

"Music Town rules and regulations?" Gabriel read with concern, "They're turning us into a music town?" Crowley thrusts a stack of papers into Charlie's hands and instructs her to place them behind the register.

"We're not a Music Town." Gabriel states, looking toward Crowley. The music is cut off with a siren blast over the sound system.

"No, we're not a music town," Crowley confirms, "Yet." There is a cacophony of voices as everyone starts to ask questions. Sam holds up the orange apron, emblazoned with the Music Town logo, and grimaces. Crowley raises a hand attempting to quiet everyone.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Alfie asks, blue eyes even wider than usual.

"I was trying to stop it!" Crowley announces, "I got enough money collected to make Michael an offer. He was going to make me a partner." Crowley runs a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Eventually I would've been able to buy him out." Excited chatter quickly fills the room at news of Crowley's plans.

"You think it's going to happen now?" Crowley yells, silencing everyone immediately. "I have to pay for this idiot's mistake?" He points to Castiel.

"It's over, guys" he says with an air of finality, walking back to his office. "Welcome to music town."


	5. Provocative Clothing

**_Sorry this update is so late. I was determined to finish my "Crimes and Misdemeanors" verse before I did anything else. _**

Dean stares quizzically at the sheet in front of him, _Music Town Rules and Regulations_ emblazoned across the top.

"No revealing or provocative clothing," He reads, tugging self-consciously at his slightly too-tight t-shirt.

"All team members must maintain an upbeat and talkative demeanor," Meg reads, standing to his left. She glances at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

"We're screwed," she sighs, "Well, at least _you're_ used to it." She smiles wryly at him.

"No, Meg, don't be bitter," Dean says with mock sweetness, "Surely, it won't be too hard for your vivacious nature and effervescent personality to work its way through that cold, hard wall of bitch." Meg grabs his wrist tightly.

"Let's not fight, let's just rip," Both of them tear into the page, shredding them into confetti.

Gabriel, Sam and Castiel sit in the back room in dour silence. Crowley had retreated into his office with a barked order to everyone of 'Work!'

"No gum chewing in the stores?" Gabriel reads with disbelief, a piece on juicy fruit tucked into his cheek, "They are kidding, right?" Sam shakes his head as he holds up the obnoxious orange employee aprons. He can't believe this is happening. Even before he worked here, Garrison had been a second home to Sam. He used to walk here after school and wait for Dean to get off, reading comics in the listening booths. It was better than returning to an empty house.

Castiel isn't saying anything. Gabriel notices that he doesn't seem as devastated or shocked as everyone else is. He fiddles with the couch cushion, picking a stray thread from the upholstery.

"Cas, did you know about this?" Gabe asks. Cas avoids looking at Gabe, focusing even harder on the cushion.

"You did, didn't you?" Gabriel crawls onto the couch and faces Cas, "When, Cas?" Castiel shrugs lightly without looking up at Gabe.

"Found the contract last night," he mumbles.

"So is that why you took the money?" Sam asks. Cas turns to face him.

"I had no idea of Crowley's plan," he answers, "I just… I wanted to help, I... I don't know." He rubs a hand over his eyes. Sam walks around to face the couch.

"How did you not know? Aren't you his roommate or something?" he ask, eyes narrowed. Cas rolls his eyes and flops back against the couch. The office door opens suddenly, Crowley poking his head out.

"Did I not tell you idiots to get to work?" He yells, punctuating his order by slamming the door closed again. Gabriel sighs and stands.

"C'mon guys, " He offers, slapping Sam on the shoulder, "We mustn't dwell. Not on Luke Cypher Day." Sam and Gabriel push through the door, leaving Castiel on his couch-prison.

The next couple hours are spent setting up for the signing, everyone trying to distract themselves from the obvious. A line of roughly 30 women had begun to form, eagerly gripping their records and ancient copies of Tiger Beat. Alfie smooths down the purple tablecloth over the folding table when Cas finally emerges from the back room, a couch cushion hugged under his arm.

"I see you didn't leave the couch," Alfie says.

"Not the whole couch," Cas says, indicating the pillow. He scans the store carefully. He may be in trouble but he's still a manager, and that means fulfilling certain duties.

"Oh hey, Cas," Alfie says, breaking his train of thought, "I'm thinking about starting a band."

"Really?" Cas says not looking at Alfie. Something has caught his eye. A small, blonde girl, no more than 16, in a coat too large for her and too thick for a Venice Beach is lurking around the racks. Cas crouches down and tightens the laces on his sneakers.

"Well, the first thing you need," Cas says, addressing Alfie, "Is a name." Alfie considers this, looking towards the ceiling.

"I was thinking about calling it Alphie," He replies. "But like with a 'ph' so you get that, like, trippy thing, y'know," Alfie pantomimes, waving his hands in front of him. Cas thrusts the cushion into arms.

"Always keep them guessing," He says as he walks away, heading toward the CDs.

Cas can tell from 10 feet away that this girl is not an experienced shoplifter. Her shifty demeanor, unseasonable warm coat, the way she lets her hair fall over her features; it would all be suspicious on it's own. The kicker is her blatant use of a utility knife to cut the security sensor.

Cas approaches carefully; you can't be too cautious with shoplifters.

"Nice selection," Cas says. The girl's head shoots up quickly, a look of panic and fear crossing her face before correcting itself to aloof boredom.

"What?" She mumbles.

"Can I help you with anything?" He asks cooly.

"Uh, I'm just looking," She answers quietly. Castiel nods, moving in closer to the girl's space.

"We have a wonderful selection here," Cas says, giving her a polite smile. The blonde nods, glancing at Cas and giving him a look that screams 'Who is this weirdo?'

"You like music?" He asks, nonchalantly. The girl shrugs..

"Um… Yeah," she replies, moving a step away from Cas.

"Me too," Cas nods, pleased that his plan is working: Make shoplifter uncomfortable, shoplifter will run. The girl grimaces at Cas and eyes him up and down.

"I gotta go," She says, turning quickly toward the exit.

"I'm sure we'll run into each other," Cas calls after her a she books it to the door. before she hits the exit, Cas is running upstairs, planning on cutting her off at the fire escape. Someone (most likely Alfie) yells out "Shoplifter". Cas descends the first level of the fire escape and waits for the girl to emerge.

Just as Blondie rounds the corner of the building, Cas jumps down from the stairwell. She crashes into him, sending most of her payload spilling on the ground. CD cases crash to the cement. She uses the momentum of the impact and ricochets off of Castiel, pulling open the back door and running back into the store. Cas rolls his eyes.

"Unbelievable," he mutters to himself.

Blondie scrambles through the store, crashing into the crowd already lined up as she runs through the store, Cas hot on her heels.

"Normally, aren't you supposed to leave the scene after committing the crime?" Dean says offhandedly to Meg, watching the scene before him.

"Definitely an amateur," she replies as the girl zips past the register. Cas catches Meg's eye and nods at her. She jumps over the counter and follows Cas toward the front entrance. They've done this before. They know their roles.

Meg has to hand it to Blondie- she's fast. Cas is flying after her, but he's nowhere near closing the distance. Meg zips around the building kitty-corner to the store. She hugs the wall, the sound of soft footsteps slowing down as Blondie begins to think she's gotten away. She huffs a breathless laugh just before Meg grabs her around the waist and arms and lifts her up. Blondie kicks in the air uselessly and screams out curses as Cas comes around the corner. They each grip a shoulder and walk her back to the store.

Luke Cypher steps out the car, slamming the sedan door.

"You've got to be kidding me?" he deadpans, staring at the grungy little storefront. His personal assistant Naomi comes to his side.

"No gig is too small, Luke," she assures, "These guys have been able to create a lot of buzz about you and we have our obligations." Luke rolls his eyes and turns toward her. He hadn't thought revamping his music career would be this much work. He had assumed that if George Michael was able to shed his teeny-bopper persona, he should be able to as well, but somehow his fan base had moved on without him.

He blames Nirvana.

"Do I look ok?" He asks. He's wearing a dark suit jacket and grey dress shirt with no tie. His stylist had went through six different looks before he settled on this one, and he still wasn't fully satisfied.

"You look great," Naomi gives him a tight smile. Their interactions might as well be scripted at this point, as much as she repeats the same platitudes over and over again.

"The hair looks ok? Not too short?" Luke asks, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror. Naomi shakes her head wearily. This is not where she expected to be at 32. Maybe she should've listened to her dad and finished her engineering degree at U of M.

She grabs Luke's arm and pulls him away from the car.

"C'mon. Your adoring public awaits"

By the time Cas and Meg enter the back room, Blondie struggling in their grasp, Crowley is already on the phone to the police.

"Yes, this is Fergus Crowley at the Garrison Records Store...Yeah, we've got a shoplifter," He tells the caller to hang on a second before turning to the girl.

"How old are you, sweetheart?" Crowley asks.

"Old enough to shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be tasting my boot if you ever call me 'sweetheart' again," the girl snears.

"Yes, she's a juvenile," Crowley says into the phone. Sam glares at her and mouths a 'no'. He wrangles her from Meg and Cas and pushes her down onto the couch. She slips out of her oversized jacket, revealing her to be even smaller than originally thought.

As Crowley hangs up the phone, he approaches her.

"Alright, Dear, tell us your name?" He smiles politely.

"Joe Pesci," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Alright then, _Jo_," Crowley says, thrusting the proffered CDs at her, " Take these, we're going to take your photo." Sam grips her under the arm to stand he up just as the bathroom door swings open.

"I thought they said no revealing clothing," Dean stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but an orange Music Town apron. Everyone's eyes are instantly on him. Sam attempts to cover Jo's eyes, but she plucks his hand away and gapes at Dean.

"I really think Music Town is torn on this whole 'Provocative Clothing' thing, y'know," Dean says, sauntering around the room, his bare ass swinging from side to side. Sam hides a laugh as he presses the play button on the radio next to the table. "I Touch Myself" starts blasting through the room. Dean writhes around the room, singing along to the music. Crowley shakes his head, muttering idiots but suppressing his own amused grin.

Dean wiggles up to Cas and starts playfully grinding on him, who laughs off the action, even as a deep blush rises to his cheeks. Jo gives a wolf whistle only to receive a smack on the back of the head from Meg.

"Ahem" A voice from the doorway breaks the atmosphere. Luke Cypher and a well dressed brunette stand awkwardly in the threshold. The music suddenly stops. Dean puts on his best John Wayne swagger as he walk up to them.

"Welcome to Music Town," Dean says winking at the pair, "How may I service you?" The brunette bursts out laughing as Luke Cypher stands there stiffly. Crowley strides forward, throwing a bundle of clothing at Dean.

"Get dressed, you twit," he mutters. He extends a hand toward the brunette. "Hello, I'm Crowley."

"Naomi," she replies, shaking his hand, "And this is Luke Cypher." Luke gives a friendly nod.

"I, uh… I have all of you records," Sam says nervously, grinning from ear to ear. Luke Cypher in all his shining glory is standing right in front of him. He wants to cry or maybe vomit, he's so excited. Luke smiles warmly at the lanky, young man.

"Well, that's great, uh…"

"Sam. My name's Sam."

"Sam," Luke purrs. Crowley claps his hands loudly, breaking the atmosphere.

"Alright, Mr. Cypher, we have you set up out here," he leads the way toward the entrance to the store, "Meg, Cas take those photos. Everyone else, Work!" He pushes through the swinging door with Naomi and Luke right behind him.

Dean, redressed in his clothes, sidles up to his grinning brother.

"You got that one in the bag," he digs a friendly elbow into Sam's side, "Knock 'em dead, Sammy."


	6. What Would Axl Rose Do

Gabriel sits on the roof, leaning against the huge, rusting slabs of metal that spell out "Garrison Records". His small note book is perched in his lap as his scribbles down recipe ideas. He told Crowley that he was going to fix the sign since a fuse had blown during a storm last month. In reality, Gabe just needed to be anywhere Luke Cypher wasn't right now.

He didn't have anything against him, not really, but seeing Sam all moon-eyed over the guy like a 10-year-old was making him miserable. He doesn't even want to imagine how Sam's going to act now that his crush is actually here in the store. Everyone had been talking about Luke Cypher Day for weeks, but no one more than Sam. Gabe scratches out 'arugula' angrily. What was so awesome about Luke fucking Cypher?

Gabriel quickly writes down "gnocchi with gorgonzola and walnuts" and lists a few ingredients below. Cooking, or even planning a meal, always seemed to clear his head. He's good at it too, at least that's what his friends say. Alfie practically lived off of those brownies and he's pretty sure no one in the store would have a birthday cake if not for him. He writes down a few more ingredients before closing his notebook. It's just not working today, though. He's too preoccupied with Sam. He stands up and starts pacing around.

"Sam, there's something really important I need to tell you," Gabriel practices, talking to the air, "I… um...uh… We've known each other a long time, right? And I know you kind of think of me like a big brother and oh God that's awful." He sighs and brushes a hand through his hair, "Ok, you know that feeling when you wake up really late and you just feel all warm and kinda fuzzy? You make me feel… you make me feel like… Arrggghhh?" He slaps a palm against his face.

"What the fuck am I talking about?" He mutters. He checks his watch and frowns. It's 11:32. He only has two hours and five minutes left. Gabe sighs deeply and makes his way to the ladder leading off of the roof.

"Dammit," he sighs.

By the time Luke Cypher makes his way out onto the floor, a line of fans has formed going out the front door. Naomi follows close by. A high pitched cheer rises from the crowd when Luke waves and smiles, inwardly grousing that the average age seems to be around 35. He looks down at the signing table and grimaces.

"I don't like the chair," he hisses, teeth still clenched into a plastered-on grin.

"What do you mean you don't like the chair," Naomi whispers. She glances at the chair; it's just a chair, "Just sit in it, Luke," she pleads. Luke poses and waves to the crowd.

"I don't like the chair," he repeats, his smile quickly dropping. Naomi and him snipe at each other until Crowley comes up from behind with another chair.

"Hear you are, Mr. Cypher," He says, replacing the chair. "This is a very nice chair." Luke sits down and readies himself as woman approaches first.

"Hi there," he says with syrupy sweetness, "Who should I make this out, too?" The woman beams as he speaks to her.

"um, Donna," She says shyly, handing him a copy of his CD, "I, I have all your albums. And you were my favorite singer in high school." Luke stops signing the CD and glances at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, who's your favorite singer now?" He asks, brow furrowed slightly. The lady gapes a little

"You!" she finally manages to say, "It's… it's still you," He smiles and nods; that's what he likes to hear.

Castiel sits on the opposite end of the couch from Jo. Crowley has relegated him to guard duty, therefore the couch, once again. Naomi flips through a copy of _Rolling Stone_, trying to stay out out Luke's way while he's signing. Jo sighs loudly and lets her head loll over the back of the couch.

"Jo, let's review what you took," Castiel says, turning toward her. He holds up the CDs, tossing them into the space between them on the couch, "Rap, metal, rap, metal, rap… Mariah Carey." Jo shrugs apathetically.

"It's for my little sister," she offers. Castiel gives her a skeptical look.

"Sure it is," he replies, "Jo, a girl like you needs to reduce her criminal tendencies, not magnify them. Why don't you try listening to some light jazz or classical?" Jo gives him a tight smile.

"Why don't you eat me?" She says sarcastically. Alfie comes rushing through the door.

"So many babes out there," he mumbles, "Need to get Luke some water because Luke is very thirsty."

"Make sure it's bottled water," Naomi says, not looking up from her magazine. Alfie opens the fridge door and grabs a bottle, quickly turning to leave the room.

"Alfie, who's your favorite singer," Castiel asks, stopping him in his tracks. Alfie quirks his mouth as he thinks.

"Axl," he finally says.

"Well, if Axl Rose saw Luke Cypher stranded on the side of the road, Do you think Axl would stop and help?" He gives Alfie a pointed look. Alfie frowns, thinking much too hard about the answer.

"Does Axl have a jack?" he asks hesitantly.

"Are you kidding?" Jo shouts excitedly, "Axl would shift into gear, take aim, hit the gas and take that sucker out!" Jo enthusiastically mimics vehicular manslaughter, imitating the 'vrooms' of a car engine, thrashing around where she sits.

"Jo,! Jo!" Cas yells out, bringing her back to reality, "Where do you get this kind of aggression from?" Jo slumps back into the cushion, crossing her arms petulantly. Gabriel comes in from the back exit without saying a word, slumping into a chair by the table.

"Do you guys like Luke Cypher's new album," Naomi asks cautiously, trying to make conversation. Jo bursts into hysterical laughter. Even Castiel can't help his amused grin.

"What?" Naomi asks, "What's so funny?" Jo calms herself enough to answer.

"Teen Dance Party Debbie Gibson type of crap, right?" Jo asks, "Yeah, good luck finding anyone under 40 who likes that shit." Naomi straightens up, suddenly defensive.

"Well, actually it tested very well with ages 12-19." She counters.

"That may be true Naomi," Castiel says slowly, "But that's the same group that came up with huffing spray paint and whippets, so I wouldn't really trust their opinion." Jo cracks up with laughter and Gabriel chuckles softly behind them. Naomi gives Castiel and Jo a tight smile and returns to her magazine.

Luke is signing an album for a young Asian kid who has no idea who he is ("Sign it for Linda. It's for my mom, she loves you.") when a tall man in a tailored suit approaches the table.

"Mr. Cypher," He says extending his hand, "Michael Beck, I own this place." Luke smiles politely and shakes his hand.

"You have a wonderful store," Luke offers.

"Oh, that's nice of you to say," Micheal says, glancing around the room, "You should have seen it originally, though: Beck's Bath and Bidet. Bathroom fixtures and fittings. It was my… hippie father who turned it into a record store." Michael catches Crowley's eye from across the room and waves him over.

"Fergus, what is this?" Michael chastises, pointing to table in front of Luke, "This is the set up we offer someone of Mr. Cypher's caliber?"

"It's ok-" Luke tries to interject.

"No, no, no," Michael holds up a finger toward Luke, not looking away from Crowley, "Mr. Cypher is a big star,"

"Huge," he says coolly. Crowley has known many jackasses in his lifetime, but none of them top Michael Beck.

"We need to take care of him," Michael instructs condescendingly, Crowley nods and mumbles a 'yes sir'. He hates bending over for douchebags like Michael, but with today's new developments, it's more important than ever that he plays nice. Especially if he doesn't want Castiel ending up in jail. He heads toward the back room, Michael following close behind.

"I'm heading toward the bank," Michael says, "Why don't you give me last night's deposit? I want to make sure it _gets_ there this time."

"No, I can take care of it," Crowley says, hoping Michael will back off.

"Why waste your time? Here, I'll get it." Michael heads toward the count out room. Crowley turns on his heel and holds out an arm to stop Michael.

"I said I'll take care of it," Crowley offers, trying to keep his expression blank. The last thing he wants is to raise any suspicions in Michael. He looks as if he's going to raise a stink when Cas pipes up.

"Michael!" he turns and looks at Cas.

"Who are you?" Michael grimaces.

"I'm Castiel. I work here."

"Well, that's great, but-"

"Michael, have you met Jo?" Cas interrupts, "I want to talk to you about Jo. Jo here came into our store today…" Castiel rambles pointlessly, holding Michael's attention, as Crowley sneaks into the count out room. He grabs the bank bag and a stack of deposit slips off the table, stuffing them into it, and locking the bag closed.

Michael rolls his eyes as Cas drones on.

"This is all fascinating, enthralling really, but.." He's cut off as Crowley slaps him across the chest with the bag,

"Now was that so hard, Fergus?" Michael says condescendingly. He mutters a thank you as he leaves. Jo flips him off as soon as his back is turned.

"Fucker," she mutters. Crowley exhales heavily. He glares at Castiel, a slow smile spreading across his face. Crowley shakes his head and pushes through the swinging door into the store.


	7. GWAR and Brownies

Crowley scanned the accounting sheet for the third time and shook his head. He had had to cook the books a little in years past, but nothing this bad. He was getting desperate. He had bought a little time sending Michael to the bank with nothing, but in a day, maybe even just a few hours, everything would come to light. A soft knock on his door brought him to attention.

Crowley brightened as Naomi opened the door. He had been speaking to her on the phone for a couple months, planning this event, and he was more than a little lost on how, well, attractive she was. Petite, dark auburn hair pulled back tightly, primly dressed in dark jeans and fitted black blazer. She looked less like she would be a pop star's personal assistant and more like she would be a mid-level executive at his record company.

She was just Crowley's type. The kind of woman who handles herself with such restraint day-to-day and then _really_ let's it all go in the bedroom. Crowley unconsciously smiles at the thought.

"You employees are assholes," Naomi announces. Crowley sits up, only slightly surprised by the language. He considers this and nods.

"Not surprised," he says, "What did they say?" Naomi thinks for a moment.

"Nothing that wasn't necessarily true," she admits as she takes a seat in the chair on the opposite Crowley.

"How's your day going?" Crowley inquires. Naomi looks down and shrugs, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Luke is being a royal pain in the ass because his stylist cut his hair too short, I've been cursed out by, not one, but four Soccer Moms, and we have to go to mall opening in Anaheim tomorrow to deal with a crowd of thoroughly apathetic teenagers." She chuckles humorlessly and rubs her temple. Crowley gives her a sad smile.

"You hate this, don't you?" Crowley says opening his bottom drawer and pulling out his emergency bottle of scotch. He places the it on his desk in front of her.

"So much," she admits, grabbing the bottle and unscrewing the top.

"Then why are you here?" He wonders, resting his head in his palm.

"At first, I was hoping to use this as a springboard into the music industry," She takes a heavy swig, "Three years later, I'm still here."

"You're a singer?" Crowley asks as Naomi passes the bottle back to him.

"Producer," she says flatly

"I know how it is." Crowley says, "Used to be a musician myself." He waves a hand at a drumkit in the corner. Naomi snorts good naturedly.

"I've dated many a drummer in my time," she says wistfully. "Wild nights." She laughs at a private memory. Crowley raises an interested brow as he pulls the bottle away from his lips.

"Really?" he says, a playful glint in his eye. Before he can take the conversation further, there is a heavy knock on the door frame. Crowley glares at Dean, who is leaning against the jamb.

"Luke wants to know if you still have any of those cough drops he likes?" Dean asks, addressing Naomi. She stands up and exits the office, heading to the door for the store. Dean gives Crowley a shit-eating grin.

"I see we have a little crush," he teases, running his tongue along the inside of his lip. Crowley stands and walks to the door.

"Fuck off, Dean," he growls, slamming the door in Dean's face.

* * *

Gabriel is studying the quiz "Are You a Sexual Dynamo?" out of a random copy of Cosmo, when Balthazar saunters into the staff room.

"Good afternoon," He says. He looks hungover as shit, wayfarers perched precariously on his nose. He has his guitar case slung over his arm. He drops it off of his shoulder and leans it against the lockers.

"Castiel," He calls out, punching his timecard, "I heard a story about you."

"Which one?" Castiel asks, not looking up from his game of go-fish with Jo. Balthazar walks past the couch.

"The one where you stole $9,000, blew it all in Las Vegas and now there's a hit on you," Balthazar says casually, receiving a confused grimace from Cas, "Has anyone seen Meg this morning?" His words are hesitant. Gabriel looks up from the magazine sternly.

"Yeah, she's here," he answers flatly, "And she has a bandage on her wrist." Balthazar looks up, concerned, before his eyes drift to Naomi.

'Who are you?" He asks.

"I'm Naomi," she says with the same poise she applies to her entire life.

"Oh?"

"I work for Luke Cypher"

"Oooooh," Balthazar tries to hold back the derisive snort of laughter. His reaction sends Jo and Castiel into a quiet fit of giggles, followed by Gabriel.

"It's funny, huh?" Naomi snears. She has had enough. She stands and crosses the room to Crowley's office.

"Tell Luke I quit," She says as she jerks open the door. Crowley jumps from his desk.

"You're quitting?" He asks in disbelief, "You can't just quit!" He follows her as she grabs her leather jacket off the couch.

"I need a change of scene," Naomi replies. She looks like a 100 lb weight has been lifted off of her shoulders, "Truth is, I've always hated Luke's music." Everyone watches with curiosity as Crowley trails after her, insisting she can't go.

"C'mon, you can't leave." He pleads. Naomi smiles at him warmly.

"I gotta do this, Crow." she squeezes his hand and vanishes out the back door. Crowley let's his head hit the doorframe in quiet frustration. He turns to see three employees and one thief staring at him.

"What are you looking at?" he barks. He stomps back to his office, slamming the door behind him. In the solitude, he knows what he has to do. He opens the top drawer of his desk and grabs a cassette tape. Popping it into his stereo system, he presses play, grabs his drumsticks from the window sill and sits down at his kit. As the first notes of "If You Want Blood" ring through the room, Crowley is ready to zone out the only way he knows how.

* * *

Meg quietly counts the Funk and Soul albums, checking the inventory. She can feel his presence before he makes a sound.

"I like your hair," Balthazar murmurs, fingers tentatively reaching out to touch an idle strand. She ignores him. He takes a step closer to her, "Meg, are you alright?"

"What do you want?" she says flatly. She doesn't know what she would classify her relationship with Balthazar as. They hang out, they have sex, they've been doing it for about 8 months, but it wasn't dating. Whatever it was, it wasn't making her very happy.

"I want to make sure you're ok." He replies quietly.

"Why do you care?" she responds, "You didn't care last night." Truth is, nothing out of the ordinary happened last night, and that was part of the problem. Balthazar inhales sharply.

"Meg, I… I want to say I'm sorry," Balthazar actually sounds contrite. She wants to laugh. He doesn't even know what he's apologizing for. Balthazar is so oblivious most of the time.

"Why? It's not your fault." Balthazar reaches for her arm carefully, but she jerks away, "Don't touch me." He jerks back like he's been stung. She turns and looks at him; he looks so pathetically sad.

"Look, it's not about you, ok?" Meg sighs, "I got home last night and I thought about everything that had happened the night before and the month before and the year before. The only thing that was different was that there was always something else making me feel like shit, ok?" She turns back to the rack and focuses on the inventory sheet.

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry," Balthazar mumbles.

"This isn't about you!" she snaps a little too harshly, "I'm just screwed up, ok? Now, just leave me alone." Balthazar tries to place an arm on her shoulder but she shrugs him off quickly. He walks away dejectedly as Meg watches him out of the corner of her eye.

* * *

"This is Bullshit, Man!" Jo screams. He arms are securely cuffed behind her back as Crowley approaches the arresting officer.

"Do not fear the warm embrace of the long arm of the law, Jo," Castiel offers as he leans his head back against the back of the couch.

"I'm Fergus Crowley, the manager here. Do you need anything from me?" Crowley asks the officer.

"No, we've already got a statement from Mr. Novak over there," the officer says, indicating Castiel.

"Are you kidding me?" Jo yells, "_Mr. Novak_ over there stole $9,000. I take a could of CDs and…"

"That's enough, young lady!" The cop snaps, seizing Jo by the arm and dragging her toward the door.

"C'mon, Castiel, tell 'em!" Jo yells, trying to jerk out of the cop's grip.

"Don't let the man get you down, Jo." Cas says, giving the girl a pitiful look.

"I don't want to see you back in the store, Jo," Crowley adds, seriously. Gabriel gives a little wave goodbye as Jo grits her teeth and struggles against the restraints.

"I'm gonna get you! I'll be back and you'll be sorry!" her screeched words echo through the store as she's pulled out the door.

"You'll be sorry," Gabriel imitates in a high-pitched squeak.

"I'm already sorry," Crowley snorts, heading back to his desk.

* * *

Dean rushes into the back room to grab a drink when he notices Alfie perched on the back of the staff room sofa, eyes glued to the fuzzy, ancient television. His mouth is stuffed with brownie, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, chewing slowly. He stares unblinking at the music video on the screen.

"Alfie," Dean says carefully, approaching him, "What are you doing?" a full five seconds pass before he answers.

"I'm playing with GWAR," Alfie says as he swallows a mouthful of brownie. Dean glances at the screen where Oderus Urungus wails over the music.

"Oh?" Dean says carefully. Alfie looks like any sudden movements might cause him to snap. "They invited me to join the band and now I'm playing with them," he points to the screen, "Right there." Dean raises an eyebrow. Alfie stops chewing and leans toward the screen.

"And now the rest of the band is eating me," he adds. Dean' eye go wide as Alfie dissolves into giggles. "Cool" he laughs manicly as he takes another bite of brownie. Dean backs away slowly and heads out to the floor.

"Hey Gabe!" he calls out to the man behind the cash register, currently checking out a customer. Dean comes behind the counter and stares down Gabriel.

"Can I help you, Dean?" Gabe asks genially.

"What the _hell_ did you put in Alfie's brownies?" Dean hisses, his mouth is a hard line.

"Nothing," Gabe answers. Dean levels a glare at him, "I'm serious, nothing!"

"Really?!" Dean is incredulous, "because the kid is convinced he's watching himself get eaten alive by members of GWAR on TV." He crosses his arms over his chest. Gabe frowns in confusion.

"It's just extra sugar. Nothing else," Dean gives a derisive snort, "I swear! The kid's just weird." Dean shakes his head and moves out from behind the counter.

* * *

Crowley tries to focus on the work in front of him when there is another knock at his door.

"Crowley?" Sam stands there with a hopeful grin, squeezing his hands together, "Best boss ever, I was wondering, if, um…"  
"Spit it out, Moose," Crowley says without looking up. Sam Sam thinks that if he bats his eyes, he can get what he wants. This might work on Gabriel and Dean, but not on him.

"I was hoping I could bring Luke his lunch." Sam beams.

"Balthazar is bringing him his lunch," Crowley replies, organizing the papers on his desk. Sam's face drops.

"Crow, you know Bal will insult him right to his face," Sam says seriously sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"Good, maybe it will knock that twat down a peg," Crowley looks up at Sam and gives him a tight smile, "now shoo, Moose." Sam's expression goes hard, nostrils flaring.

"Crowley, I _need_ to bring Luke his lunch," he says, eerily calm.

"Balthazar is," Crowley says, refocusing on his work.

"Crow," Sam's leans forward, speaking slowly, "I _need_ to bring him his lunch." Crowley looks up suspiciously. He's never seen Sam be anything but a giant puppy. This Sam is… different.

"Balthazar is," he says carefully. Sam stands suddenly and slams his large fist on Crowley's desk.

"_I'M BRINGING LUKE HIS LUNCH!_" Sam shouts with unrestrained fury, hazel eyes blazing. Crowley has never had to face down an angry Moose-Man before, and now hopes he never will again. Angry Sam is downright terrifying; Six-foot-four-inches of controlled Winchester rage aimed in his direction is jarring. Crowley doesn't react, save for a nervous swallow in his throat. He sits up straight, dusting an invisible piece of lint off of his jacket.

"Alright, Moose," he mumbles. Sam beams brightly, murmuring 'thank yous' and practically skipping out the door.


	8. Like and Animal

Crowley finally wanders out of his office. The store is buzzing with activity. The crowd of women vying for a Luke Cypher's autograph has thinned out and many of them are now milling around the store, snatching up copies of Luke's past albums. He passes the listening booths, a row ancient of phone booths converted so customers can listen to an album before. They were semi-private, which is good if a customer wants to listen to a record in peace or quietly cry over it, but the staff had to keep an eye out that no one tried to have sex in the booths.

Crowley taps on the window of a booth, holding up a warning finger to a couple getting hot and heavy inside. As he approaches the final booth, he sees Meg crouched on the ground, poring over account sheets.

"Just give me a few more minutes and I'll be finished with our quarterly tax return," Meg says without looking up. Crowley likes to pride himself on being a _laissez-faire_ kind of boss and trusting his employees to do the right thing (a method that has colossally backfired on him as of late) but he does listen in when the kids around him start talking and he too noticed the bandage on Meg's wrist.

"Are you alright, dear?" Crowley asks, mustering up as much concern as possible. "You know, If you want to talk or..." he trails off. He like's Meg. She remind him of himself at that 23: snarky, hard-working, and constantly pissed off at the world. Meg glances up at him from her spot on the floor and huffs a soft laugh.

"You wanna fix me, Crow?" she asks. Meg personality tends to run the gamut from slightly annoyed to bitterly sardonic, but today her words hold no bite. "Ok, go ahead. Fix me."

"I didn't mean it like… Would you like me to call your mum or anything?" Meg laughs bitterly and turns her attention back to her calculator.

"Yeah, good luck with that," she says. "If you find her, tell me where she is." Crowley frowns. Goddammit, he didn't sign up to be a parent to a dozen 20-somethings! He bites at the inside of his cheek searching for something to say.

"You're, um… you're doing a good job, Meg," he finally says. He stands and walks away, down the stairwell. Meg watches him leave.

"Yeah, now I feel a whole lot better," she mutters quietly to herself.

* * *

Sam has dreamt of this moment for weeks. Luke Cypher will be here in a few moments and finally a childhood dream will be real. He took extra care making lunch, the veal parmesan and spaghetti arrabiata smell divine. As he sets things up in the count-out room, "Closer" plays over the radio. Sam mouths along with the words. He runs a hand through his hair sensually as Trent Reznor sings "I_ want to fuck you like an animal_". He lets his hands run down his body until he reaches the hem of his jeans. He lets a digit drag along the soft satin of Dean's panties. Part of him can't believe he's actually wearing these, but he trusts Dean's judgement on this. Dean's had a lot of sex, he should know, right? Sam reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and fingers a little silver tube, debating whether or not to take one right now, just in case, before deciding not to. He carefully sets out the silverware, lights a candle on the center of the table and arranges the vase of flowers _just so_.

It's perfect. This is going to be perfect.

The door suddenly swings open and Sam spins around to turn off the radio. Luke saunters in with Alfie trailing behind him. Sam hurries toward the door.

"Whoa, cool. All the food groups, Sam," Alfie says.

"Goodbye, Alfie," Sam mutters, unceremoniously pushing him out the door and shutting it. Luke settles into his chair and unfolds his napkin.

"This looks wonderful," he says. "Talking to all those women can really work up an appetite." Sam leans against the counter.

"I bet," he mumbles, smiling shyly. Luke looks over the set-up.

"I think I got everything," he says. "I'm all set. Thank you." Sam puts on his best coy grin; he's not being dismissed that easily.

"So am I," he says, hitching a leg up onto the counter and dragging a hand across his inner thigh. Luke pauses and considers Sam.

"I can't help noticing you sitting there. Staring at me." Sam glances down and bites at his lips.

"This is just a dream come true," he admits. "I used to watch your music videos all the time."

"Oh?" Luke raises an eyebrow, popping a bite of veal into his mouth.

"I practically burned out our VCR rewatching the tape I'd made again and again," Sam adds. Luke looks at him approvingly, clearly enjoying the fawning attention.

"I used to imagine marrying you." It's a risky move. Sam's only heard through tabloids that Luke is bisexual, nothing confirmed. Thankfully, a slow grin spreads across Luke's face.

"You were just a kid," he offers, voice dropping an octave. Sam fingers a button on his flannel shirt. He undoes the first one and the next.

"I'm not a kid any more," he murmurs. He swallows hard, trying to quell his nerves. The smile drops off of Luke's face and something far more predatory replaces it.

"You're a sweet guy," he says. Sam slips his shirt off his shoulders. He shivers, even though the room isn't cold.

"I'm not as sweet as you think," he says as assuredly as he can. He flicks at the button on his jeans and lets them fall to the floor, revealing a pair of soft, pink panties barely containing his straining erection.

Luke calmly replaces him silverware on the plate and looks at Sam for a moment.

"You're sure about this?" he asks and Sam nods quickly. Luke pushes back from the table and leans back.

"Rock and Roll," he mumbles as he starts to undo the fly on his pants.

In an instant, it's like something snaps within Sam.

_What the fuck is he doing?_

He grabs his jeans from around his ankles and snatches his shirt off the floor. He turns on his heel and escapes out the door without looking back. He is glad that the back room is empty because before he even pushes through the back door, tears are already streaming down his face. He has to get away. He needs a moment alone.

* * *

Gabriel is once again on the roof, actually trying to fix the sign this time, when Sam comes tumbling up the fire escape. He checks his watch. 1:35 pm. Perfect timing!

"Hey, Sam," Gabe says as he approaches the lanky kid, who is crouching by the side wall, hands running through his hair.

"What are you doing up here?" Sam stammers out, turning his face away from Gabe.

"Fixing the sign," he replies. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking a break," Sam offers. He stands quickly and turns his back on Gabriel.

"It's so weird that you're up here right now," Gabe says, "because there's something really important I need to tell you." Sam drags a hand across his face.

"Gabriel, not now, Please. I just-"

"No, it has to be right now. I have to get this out," Gabe says quickly. He takes a deep breath and starts in his practiced speech, "Ok, you remember that really horrible day a few months ago when Charlie set off the store alarm, and Dean slept with that Aaron guy and then got in that fight with his girlfriend and Meg convinced Alfie she was a vampire and you wore that shirt I hate-"

"What shirt?" Sam sniffs and turns to face Gabe.

"Um, that ugly one," Gabe mumbles absently, suddenly noticing his reddened eyes, "the one with the dog on it?"

"The purple one?" Sam hiccups. Gabe is torn between comforting Sam and getting this confession off of his chest. 6 feet of crying, puppy-faced Winchester is quite a distraction.

"Yeah, the purple one," Gabe says.

"I love that shirt," Sam mumbles, somehow looking even more dejected than before.

"Yeah, I hate that shirt, but that's a good thing," Gabe says quickly. " Listen to me! I realized something. I said to myself 'If I can love him even in that shirt, then this must really be it!'" Gabe beams at Sam, who stares at him aghast.

"What?" Sam finally says after a beat.

"I love you, Sam," Gabe says quietly, reaching out and placing a hand on Sam's upper arm. "I'm in love with you." Gabe looks up at him with adoring eyes. Sam jerks away from the touch, muttering 'no's' under his breath.

"Please, don't do this right now, Gabe," Sam whimpers, a new wave of tears springing to his eyes. "I can't handle it right now." Gabriel's face falls.

"So you could handle it another time?" Gabe asks, a tremor of sarcasm bleeding through in his words.

"Look, I just offered myself to Luke Cypher, ok?" Sam yells, "and I made a total fool of myself. I just can't take this right now." Gabriel feels like the floor has just been pulled out from under him. He knew Sam liked Luke, but he never thought Sam would just try to jump his bones the second he was left alone with him. That's Dean behavior, sure, but not Sam. Gabriel schools his features, hiding any pain deep down.

"Oh," he says coolly.

"I just need to be alone," Sam says, slouching down besides the sign and letting his face fall into his hands. Gabe mumbles an 'ok' before jumping onto the fire escape and climbing down.

* * *

Dean sets a cup of coffee down in front of a despondent Sam. When he'd finally made his way back into the store, Dean had immediately recognized a miserable Sam and had called for a break for both of them. Now they're sitting at the cyber cafe down the block where Charlie part-times. Dean can see her out of the corner of his eye, arguing with a customer that Princess Peach is the real hero of Super Mario Brothers. He pushes Sam's coffee cup toward him, but his brother doesn't even look at it.

"C'mon Sam," Dean says, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Buck up! You will find another guy, you'll forget all about Luke Cypher-"

"I don't want another guy," Sam cuts him off. "I'm not like you. Why are you always trying to make me like you?" He glares at Dean.

"What do you mean 'not like me'?" Dean furrows his brows. Sam digs into his pocket and drops the panties on the center of the table in front of Dean.

"I mean I don't need to hump everything that happens to cross my path," Sam snipes. Dean's face goes hard.

"So what you mean is that you're not like me, the gigantic slut, right?" Dean hisses sarcastically, "What are you saying that I need to fuck everyone I meet?" Sam rolls his eyes and snorts derisively.

"Well, it certainly seems to be your favorite hobby," Sam snears. Dean's eyes narrow and he huffs a humorless laugh.

"Well, tell me Sam, what's your game plan? Do you think acting all perfect and better than everyone is going to make anyone like you?"

"They may not like me but at least they don't fuck me and then go laugh about it," Sam replies bitterly. Dean's jaw clenches minutely. He stands slowly from the table.

"Self-righteous prick," he mutters before walking off without looking back. Sam sits back in his chair and scrubs a hand down his face. He and Dean never fight, and what he said was more than a little harsh. Charlie hops over to the table.

"Heya Sammy, how's it going? How's everyone handling the arrival of Luke Cypher?" She wiggles her eyebrows. She keep talking, saying something about giving Luke her mixtape, but Sam isn't listening. He looks away and shakes his head before suddenly standing and bolting out of the cafe. Charlie's mouth hangs open mid-word, confused.

"That's weird," she says. She picks up the small pink bundle off the table. "Hey Sam, you forgot your… oh, ew." She drops the panties, realizing what they are.


End file.
